


Am I Worth a Reassemble?

by madkingryan



Category: Most of the Let's Play Network partners are Mentioned, Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF, Sugar Pine 7 - Mention
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Gore, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 05:35:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18204218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madkingryan/pseuds/madkingryan
Summary: The chronicles of a Mad King's decent into paranoia and fear, and ultimately, madness.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my "serious" interpretation of the Lets Play Minecraft Kings/Achievement Hunter Royal Court series. I hope you all enjoy it. I had a lot of fun writing it, and with the series most likely coming to an end with a certain someone's victory over The Mad King himself, I feel like it's appropriate to post now. 
> 
> [ Roughly inspired by, and written to the following A Day to Remember songs: Paranoia, Violence (Enough is Enough), Exposed, and heavily inspired by Reassemble. ]

_You've failed us, Haywood._  
_You're nothing but a failure, you couldn't even kill the for--_  
_Absolutely blasphemous! Did you not think to strike him do--_  
_You should have murdered him when you had the ch--  
_ _Blasphemer!--Worthless!--Dishonored!_

As The Mad King gripped his temples, he began to scream. It had been the fifth time in what he perceived as an hour that the voices in his head had decided to come forth again, and he was beginning to lose his grip on reality faster and faster. He could see Them now - six, seven partial apparitions finally given a face to the eerie, hushed whispers that overloaded his ears time and time again.

For so long he had tried to hide Them - what he only knew in the beginning as the Gods - but the more power he accrued, the stronger their hold on him became, and the more he seemed to realize that deep down, these were not Gods. No God could be as cruel as the voices in his head were.

When he had struck down the previous King the first time, the rush of euphoria that washed over _changed_ something deep inside of him - something that could not be reversed, no matter how many times he tried.

That was when the voices had begun; the first time he had won against the mighty King Geoff in a self-inflicted combat challenge, tasked among six other worthy men who had all but proven themselves to be just as good of Kings as Ramsey himself. He had won, but no part of it had been fair - it was a sick game, one that Ryan was so unsure that Geoff had come up with by himself: be the first to inflict an arrow wound upon yourself by shooting one into the air as high as it would go. It had been a test of fear - all but Ryan had managed to do it, the only man fearless enough to accept Death itself at the hands of oneself. He had almost died in the Royal Court that evening, with the moon high in the sky, having miscalculated where the arrow would have landed. Instead of his thigh, it had struck him in the neck.

But nonetheless, he won, and Geoff was free from whatever curse that had been gripping his psyche. It was Ryan's turn, now. They were kind, in the beginning - soft voices he would hear of people that seemed to love him, seemed to be the voices of the kingdom's Gods themselves. And for the longest time, Ryan had believed that was exactly what they were.

 

* * *

 

_Warmth._ That was all Ryan could have said to describe what he was feeling in this moment. Warmth. It was the kind of warmth that encircled his entire, naked form as he stood on what looked like a glass pedestal, overlooking a black, lightless void. As he looked down, he furrowed his brow. He had been standing, no? Why was he now floating?

His confusion became painfully clear as he seemed to forget how to breathe, kicking at the pedestal beneath him, trying to find his breath. It never came, however, and he was forced to writhe in place, trying to reach the surface of whatever body of water he was in. Yet no matter how hard he tried, no matter how hard he swam, the surface never seemed to appear. There was only the abyss.

Unable to breathe, Ryan began to panic, sucking in water and trying to cough it back up. His face began to turn red, then purple, and finally blue.

This was it. He was going to die here.

_You are safe, King Haywood. Breathe. The water cannot harm you._

As he began to slip away, Ryan felt like the only thing he could do was trust this disembodied voice. He inhaled. The more he inhaled, the less he felt like he was going to drown. The water - or whatever it was - felt warm, and comforting. He wondered if this was what infants felt like in their mothers' wombs.

_Well done, King Haywood. To trust a stranger you cannot see is to have faith that nothing will bring you harm. You are a man of faith, no?_  

Ryan swallowed, as much as he could with this new way of breathing, and tried to speak. All that came out was bubbles. _I cannot speak,_ he thought.

_Yet I still hear you, my King._

_Alright,_ he muttered in his head, as that too seemed to be where this voice was coming from, _I am indifferent to the Gods. They have not helped me in my times of need._

_Ah, but you would be wrong, my King. Do you think it was just Caleb who saved your life? He may know his potions well, but you were bleeding out. You would have been dead if not for the Gods._

Ryan listened. _Then I suppose I believe in them now. As a man of science, I must know. Is this a dream? Can I wake, if I wish to?_

The disembodied voice chuckled. Ryan could not tell if they were man or woman; they seemed to be both, yet neither.

_Do you trust me, James?_

Ryan noted the deflection of his question - maybe this was a dream... but it was all so vivid. He could feel the water, though still as a lake, moved through his hair; it snaked its way into his eyes and he could feel it stinging, though his vision was clear. Maybe it was not a dream after all.

He looked around, trying to find a body to give to the voice. One did not appear, and he instead sunk back down to the platform easily. He let himself fall backwards, and let the warmth of the water give him something to relax upon as he stared (up? forward?) into the void. I do. _I have no other choice, because you have not given me one._ He closed his eyes, expecting to sink onto the platform, but when he moved his arms to feel beneath him, it no longer existed. He was suspended freely in the water, propelled neither up- or downwards. How peculiar.

_Then you are worthy, James. Geoffrey was not ready for us - but you are._

Ready for--ready for what?

_For us._

As Ryan furrowed his brow, he opened his eyes - and for a moment he was met with the most horrific vision he had ever witnessed; a vision he could not bear to witness again, as its amalgam of gore reached out to touch and grab at him. Its hands were skeletal, and what bits of  flesh remained were pale and gray from what seemed like months of decomposition. They grasped at all of him - at his legs, at his arms, at his chest and his neck and his hair, and began pulling him upwards, out of the abyss.

A soft gasp left Ryan's throat as he shot out of bed in a cold sweat, breathing heavily as he peered around the dark room of his humble hovel, made of mud, clay, and stone. He was in nothing, and furs of all kinds now draped over his waist as they slipped off his chest. Nothing seemed out of place in his one-room hovel as his eyes adjusted to the moonlight coming through the door behind him, and he wondered what that abomination could have been. Surely the Gods were much more beautiful than what he had heard, with golden hair and shimmering skin, immortals of such wondrous beauty that it could make a person fall to their death standing. It had been just a dream, nothing more. A nightmare. Yes, that was it, a nightmare, nothing more, he thought, as he lit the torch beside his bed and rubbed at his tired eyes. But had it truly been?

 

* * *

 

His rule over the Kingdom had gone smoothly for his first reign - a couple of assassination attempts, but nothing too scandalous. He had become accustomed to the lavish lifestyle, and all of the perks that came with it. His favorite were the hangings. People of the kingdom brought to trial for almost inane reasons, like speaking ill of the King, or practicing rebellion against him.

Fantastic balls and feasts began his reign, almost every night. Each involved fun concoctions and potions that eventually drove those who were invited to ecstasy or madness, whichever befell them first.

Ryan would always sit upon his throne, at least one person at his lap, and two at his feet, giving him company as he watched over what he perceived as perfect rule, watching his most trusted advisers fuck and drink and laugh and eat - all the while the rest of his kingdom threatening a mutiny as it delved further into poverty and desolation. Anyone not in downtown Achievement City was left to rot as Ryan cared nothing for their petty fodder. Unless, of course, they were speaking ill of him.

Yet not long after... everything started to become _boring_. While his patrons had their fun night after night, he grew tired of the men and women begging for his pleasure at his feet. He grew tired of the mutton and the steak and the cakes and pies. He grew tired of the potions, and often found himself leaving his own grandiose parties empty-handed, or with one or another that he could take in peace; and oftentimes, not even then. He'd slip away and leave a ghost in his place, searching for the atrocity that plucked him from his slumber and turned him into what others could only describe as a God-King - a man who no weakness, who could not die, could not _bleed_. More often than not he found himself submerged in his own bath, just waiting for the entity to take over, to find that terrifyingly dark ocean that surrounded him like a womb the first night he became King. The only thing he found were whispers. Demands of voices long forgotten to the mortal man, of wars, of paranoia, of threats of usurpers.

And he was right to believe them.


	2. Chapter 2

The first time he had been struck down, it had been the one deemed The Ghost, Ray Narvaez Jr - a man of little talents and little class, to Ryan.

He had won by the easiest of trials, one he never thought anyone would make it to: growing wheat. Not the easiest of task by no means - it grew from seed to harvest slowly, over an entire season; yet he'd somehow managed to make a poultice that had it growing in minutes. In his defeat, he had been shamed to the point of self flagellation.

 

( _How stupid to not think of it yourse--_  
 _Idiot! So predictable! How could you not s--_  
 _You are worthless of the crown!_ )

 

The Gods of Old, as he knew them, had been so displeased, and their words had cut like hot steel through his skin. The only way they quieted down was through pain. And Ryan caused himself a lot of pain, in the beginning.

When he had lost to Mogar, King of the Hunt? In a contest to find or make a jukebox? Ryan had more connections than the Achievement Railway, and he had been unable to secure one before Michael had built one from scratch. He felt like a fool, and when he had lost, the voices had only gotten worse.

The scars that littered the Mad King's body underneath his armor and kilt were undeniably horrific. It almost seemed as if no inch of Ryan' body was not littered with heavy scarring, from whips to thorned leather, to knives, hot irons, anything he could get his hands on. And after a while, the pain dulled to nothing more than an ache that never seemed to cease, no matter how much more pain he inflicted.

 

* * *

 

The sleepless nights were no match for when the Old Gods contacted Ryan once more, or so he thought they were. He had been dreaming of a murder plot to cause Michael one hell of an accident when they arrived. His dream turned to ash before his very eyes, and he was left to the dark, wet abyss that he remembered from the first time.

Except... it was as cold as ice. Ryan didn't like the feeling - it sent a shiver up his spine as the air in his lungs gave in to the water; his clothes fell away, slipping off his body and leaving him completely nude and at the mercy of the mess of limbs he had seen only once before.

_Hello?_ he called out, looking around in fear.

No such eldritch horror appeared before him - instead, a girl, no older than her 18th name day appeared before him. She was wearing nothing more than a piece of thin cloth, and it billowed around her body softly, leaving nothing to his imagination.

_Who are you?_ He asked, a feeling of embarrassment washing over him. He felt as though her eyes were looking far past his nudity - it was as if she were looking at his very soul, and she paid no mind to anything else.

_You know who I am, James._

She flowed closer to him, as if she were made of the very liquid that surrounded him. Her skin seemed to shimmer as white as his throne, though her hair blended in with the darkness around them - the only indication that she had any hair at all was the way it softly began to glow as she spoke. She had no eyes, but as he peered closer, they were the same as her skin. _Quartz,_ his voice seemed to whisper.

_You seemed to be terrified of Our true form, so We became something less of a horror to the mind. We did not mean to cause terror._

Ryan swallowed and looked around at anything but her. _Why am I here again?_ he asked her.

She - They? - reached up and brushed some of his hair out of his face; soft, yet icy fingers caressed his cheek. _You know why you are here. You failed us. Just like Geoffrey failed us._

_I--I did not mean to!_ Ryan seemed panicked, as if this would be the end of him. He saw what had happened once Geoff was free of their grasp. He was a fool for making a task to die before him. Geoff did not hesitate, though he did not succeed. The vacancy in Geoff's eyes as he slit his own wrists had been nothing short of haunting, and Ryan often dreamt of it. He hoped that he would never become like that.

_Do not worry, James. You can redeem yourself. We are not cruel. Geoffrey was given another chance, but he had failed us once more._

Ryan licked his lip, although it served no purpose here. _What do I need to do?_

The form shifted to circle him, her cloth brushing against his body as she looked him up and down, her fingers trailing along his chest, his hips, and the small of his back. Unlike her, and unlike the water, the cloth draped around her body was warm; soothing, like the water had been the first time.

_You know what you have to do, my King._

Her icy, clawed fingers trailed softly up his chest as she embraced him from behind, the cloth encircling them both. For a moment, Ryan thought that this was wrong. He didn't know what would become of him if he did this. Would he be changed? Would he go mad?

Ryan had no time to think as a comforting warmth enveloped him; the woman reached his hair, and finally his temples. Another set of hands seemed to trail along his chest again, and another slid up his calves. Hands of all kinds seemed to appear out of nowhere as they touched every inch of Ryan. One last pair moved along more... intimate places, and Ryan sighed softly as he succumbed to their touch, and eventually, Them.


	3. Chapter 3

When he had finally struck down the King of the Hunt, it had been wondrous, if sloppy. The final test in his was as cruel as Geoff's - be the last to survive in a pit full of undead. A cleric from a far off kingdom had come just to ensure the combatants would be born again should they perish, and it had been a whole ordeal. Most of the kingdom gathered around the Royal Court to witness such a feat of bravery and skill. And it was Ryan's chance to shine. He had won two out of the three blocks needed so far, as each had been given a gold block to start. Michael was not a King of preparation.

Nothing pleased Ryan more than hearing his enemies scream for bloody murder as the gold walls of the pit were stained red with blood and gore. Even as he was torn apart, he laughed with a mad, cackling laughter that ceased all cheering from the crows around them. And when Michael said he couldn't tell who had won, and demanded they do it again? Oh, it just fueled Ryan more. The weight of Ryan's first triumph fell heavy over the Achievement Kingdom, as they knew deep in their hearts their Mad, Cruel tyrant of a King would rule once more.

Most of the others had grown a fear of going into the pit, and it was their apprehension that felled them one by one. Only Ray was mad enough to stay as alert as himself, and even that couldn't help him as the flesh and muscle was torn from his throat in front of Ryan.

The screams of Ryan's second falling were not of fear, of pain. They were of ecstasy. He was to rule again, and when he awoke in the barracks of the Court, he got out of bed and waltzed with a pep in his stride as he was handed the last piece of gold. The silence around the court was deafening - they knew, and he knew, and the smile that curled the corners of his mouth was sinister.

Michael was gone within the minute. In the end, it was the Sword of Mogar, King of The Hunt, that bore down on his forehead as Ryan swung with the might of a thousand men, cleaving through the crown as though it were made of butter. Some would say in this moment, as Ryan looked up into the crowd, that his eyes had flashed a terrifying shade of red; others would swear it was just the blood spaying from Michael's head that caused it. But who truly knew?

Michael fell to his knees as Ryan pushed him, the sword stuck, lodged into his skull. He sighed and shook his head, grunting. The other four men - Geoff, Jack, Ray, and Gavin -  stood in horror as Ryan pushed Michael with one mighty shove from his foot onto the ground, the sword releasing with a wet, almost sloshing slurp. The crown, made of tempered iron and antlers, fell into the dirt beside Michael's gored head. Crowd members gasped in horror, looking around. What could they do? Ryan was King again.

The pleasure coursing through Ryan's veins didn't stop as a strong, gloved hand clasped around the crown and brought it up to his head; he placed it, crooked and cracked and bloody, on his hair.

Ryan had never felt so high before. The power he had gained for so, so long was unlike anything he had felt before. He felt as though nothing could ever touch him now. And his rule was nothing short of tyranny, throwing the Achievement kingdom into the worst times it had ever seen. Famine and war were endless; the worst the Kingdom had to offer came out of the woodwork to stay in The Mad King's good graces.

 

* * *

 

As the time of the Royal Challenge came down upon the Mad King once more, he grew restless. Knowing even the most simple of task could be his undoing. His council - what was left after his first burst of paranoia hit - offered trickery and illusion aplenty, but nothing stuck. Eventually he had locked himself in his newly-acquired laboratory, hidden deep under his simple hovel, to brainstorm in peace. For seven days and seven nights he stayed, formulating and changing around every aspect of his challenges, thinking of every possible outcome and every possible way he could squash the competition from winning. By the time he finished his calculations, his head hurt. With his quill, he wrote a concise and simple set of challenges that only he knew the inner workings of, and set out to make them himself, knowing that this would ensure his victory above all others. The Mad King was not going to be struck down again.

Oh, how wrong he had been.

It was Gavino Free, the Cunning One, The Non-Believer, who had come out as the victor.

The Royal Court had never seen someone excel so well before. Ryan's challenges had been beyond tough, and he was a merciless king. In a climactic end challenge, all other challenges were thrown out the window - the only one that had mattered was the last. And it had been bloody. Death after death, person after person of the Achievement Hunter Royal Court had been slain in a deathly maze of tricks and traps.

It was all to slay the Mad King's horrific beast, Edgar -  a pile of bovine and human parts sewn together to create a towering, strong Minotaur-like entity that was fast, agile, and _deadly_. However Ryan had created it had turned it into a monster whose only goal was to mutilate anyone who came near him, and by the Gods did it do just that.

Broadcast for the entire Kingdom to hear, the contestants died one by one in the deadly maze Ryan had made himself. He cried out in vicious laughter as Michael, Gavin, Geoff, Jack, and Ray were slain one by one again and again and again for his viewing pleasure. The monstrosity named Edgar was creative for how simple-minded it was - it took turns slicing and tearing each member apart limb from limb, collecting gear and heads alike as the contestants were resurrected again and again by clerics and sent back into the pitch-black maze that finalized their deaths. 

When Jack fell to the beast, he came to in the quarters meant for contestants with a yell. "F-Fuck." he muttered, breathing heavily. Over his earpiece, he could hear his friends screaming in horror. "Is--Is Edgar truly that powerful??" He asked, not to anyone in particular. The clerics didn't know what to say.

A tired, insanity-dripping laugh echoed across his earpiece. Jack swallowed. "Did you honestly think it would be so _easy_ to _slay_ Edgar?" He asked. A second later he appeared, floating, over Jack's body. "I have warned you," He growled, leaning in close, so close that Jack could smell the potions on his breath, "time and time again." 

A shiver ran Jack's spine as he, and everyone within the Kingdom, could hear Ryan. " _You, do not, fuck, with, Edgar_." 

The man that drove holes into Jack's soul was not the man that he once knew. The man floating about him was no longer Ryan, and had not been for some time. His paled skin was nearly grey, and it was scarred worse than anything he'd ever seen. His eyes were a dull, solid white that glimmered softly in their bruised, tired sockets. As Ryan foamed at the mouth, gripping Jack's jaw with the might of something inhuman, he knew that this _thing_  that was not his friend _had to die_.

Slowly, they began to lose hope; the pain and horror of the red-eyed creature hunting them for sport wore their spirits down to nothing. It was chaotic; while Gavin was careful, the confined walls of Edgar's maze were slick with blood and sinew that stank of death and earth, and his sensitive stomach couldn't handle it. But he knew he had to push through. Ray, although his stomach was made of steel from seeing the pain of war more than once, and even fighting his own shadow form, was just as determined, and nodded to Gavin as he opened the iron door to the maze and gathered all the gear they could, listening for the snorts and roars of the stumbling creature. They worked together to corner it, using its own tactics of swift and silent against it to lure it into a trap.

Ray's death did not fall on empty ears. Gavin's spirit nearly broke watching his skin get torn from his very limbs, spraying blood along the crossroads. He could hear Jack advancing into the tunnel, but knew he had to make his move as the cow's eyes shifting to his form. Gavin pulled out a vial of liquid and popped the top off with a shaking thumb, his sword outstretched to the beast. "You and your maker will _never, ever_  rule again." He growled, and chugged it, feeling the magical essence quicken his step. Edgar did not like these words of aggression, and roared an un-cowlike noise that made Jack stop in his tracks and drop his sword, running. The crown was not worth it. 

But Gavin was. 

As Gavin circled the beast in such tight quarters, he made the first move. With strong footing and careful planning, he slashed and stabbed and slashed again, narrowly dodging the creature's own sword. He took many blows, but did not back down. He wouldn't watch Ryan turn this Kingdom into his own hellish playground. He was going to end his life once and for all, as soon as Ryan's play thing was taken care of. 

It was Jack who witnessed the new King slaughter Edgar with the fury of every man, woman, and child that was slain to Ryan's paranoia and power. With the fury of his friends, the memory of Geoff's suicide attempt burned into his mind for life. It only took one blow, and Edgar was over.

Gavin shoved his diamond sword so far up the creature's chin that it broke the skull and stuck through the top. "Suck, my, _cock_!" He screamed as blood sprayed the ceiling and rained down upon him in a dizzying display of grotesque horror. And it was Jack who caught him as he fell to the ground, too tired to fight any longer. 

Jack gasped, realizing what this meant. "He did it." He whispered, breathing deeply as he pulled Gavin out of the maze. "He did it!" He yelled as he reached the others, who went silent before erupting into a fury that no doubt, the entire Kingdom was joining in on. "He killed Edgar!" 

The cheers of his friends led Gavin into the darkness of unconsciousness, and he smiled as he went limp in Jack's form. "This is a day that will live on in infamy! The Mad King has been defeated! It is King Free who reigns us now! Long live the King!"

When Gavin regained consciousness, Ryan was already gone. Exiled into the deep wilderness outside of the Kingdom, he found himself losing his grip on reality. Defeated, again? It was impossible. Edgar had been an impossible beast to kill. He had made _sure_  of it!

_James._

A whisper so soft it sent shivers down his spine. Ryan didn't want to fall asleep anymore. He knew what awaited him, and he knew that he couldn't let them take him again. As fearless of a man Ryan was, he didn't want to die. 

 


	4. Chapter 4

Gavin's reign was nothing short of a welcome sigh of relief among the Kingdom's inhabitants. It took some time, but yet again, the Achievement Kingdom grew to its once prosperous size; the King was by no means a smart man in ruling a city, but with the help of his most trusted adviser, things began to return to normal. Wealth was redistributed, towering statues of the Mad King were melted down to give back to the communities they had been stolen from; farms were personally financed by the Achievement Hunter Royal Court until they were back to normal. Villages and towns were rebuilt to house what little occupants were left, and the unmarked graves were dug up to be given a proper burial. 

 

Of course, the King sent out search teams to find the runaway traitor, but nothing turned up no matter how far and wide they went. They scoured the known land, and when nothing promising was found, they moved onto the uncharted land. Slowly, but surely, this new land was charted for the King, and with it, came new civilizations and new kingdoms that didn't even know that his existed. Trade ports were constructed, stone roads and paths laid, and wagons built for the sole purpose of creating friendships and opening up the Kingdom to new prospects. Even embassies were constructed in Achievement City's honor, and leaders alike from all over were invited to meet this new, silly King who was young and respectable. 

No sign of the Traitorous King was ever found, but to ensure the safety of other Kingdoms, King Free was open and honest about the goings on of the agreement put in place by the entire Kingdom. Six council members and one spot for a King. After a period of time, or stagnation, the King was to put up a sporting event to help choose the new King. He detailed who Ryan was and the atrocities he had committed in the Kingdom's name and apologized for his timely escape. Leaders were assured he'd be found, and a description was given. If Ryan were hiding anywhere within the seven known Kingdoms of the world, he would be found. It was only a matter of time.

And then he would be tried, and more than likely thrown off of the top of Geoff's tower. Gavin hadn't quite decided yet.

 

* * *

 

Sleep came for Ryan faster than he could have ever wanted it to. There were no fires in the deep, pine woods that surrounded northern Achievement City. It belonged to the Sweet Seven, a democracy of woodland leaders that were neither human nor beast. They were somewhere in between, ethereal in nature and just as cryptic. If he were to be found in these lands, there was no doubt he'd be jailed, or worse. He found a hollowed out tree and checked inside - there was nothing. He could sit and rest, if for a moment. With the crown still in his fevered grasp, he quietly, to the best of his ability, dug out the bottom and piled the deep cobblestone above him. It was easy, from there, to use the last of his adrenaline to build himself a small, underground hovel, careful to sneak around so that he could not be seen; it was once rumored that one of the Seven had psychic powers - a tall, awkward man named Clayton. He was an interesting character, and perceptive. 

Ryan's thoughts lingered on the man as he hollowed out just enough space to comfortably walk around and, more importantly, sit. He gathered the supplies he grabbed on the run and carefully crafted several items - a bench to craft more complex items, a torch to light the area around him, and a bed, though he knew he wouldn't need it. With the extra stone, he crafted himself a furnace and used its warmth from cooking mutton to keep him from shivering in the frigid air of the northern realms. This stone room was no different; in Downtown Achievement City, it was hot, and bustling, always sunny, and rarely wet. The underground was ice cold, and it made for good ice storage. 

He sighed as he thought of all the things he'd be giving up to lead this new life. He wondered if this was the same fate that befell Geoff, long before he ever awoke in this strange new land. 

Before he knew it, he opened his eyes to a cold, unforgiving glare. 

_You have failed us yet again, James._

Ryan gasped. _How am I here? I haven't fallen asleep. I--I was cooking mutton, I--_

_You know we have our ways. You were wounded and sick. It was not hard to pull in a King with the thoughts of a soft, warm bed._

The figure before him came out of the watery shadows, and Ryan's nude form shivered. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't find warmth. Not even the being's touch was warm as it slipped a hand against his neck. Ryan could barely feel the icy quartz he was pressed against. As if on cue, the dark liquid was drawn from his lungs, and he tried to breathe. 

No such breath came. Ryan felt as though he was going to drown as the form looked him over. It was a mangled, awful thing. Its eyes were the same, soft quartz that he recognized from so long ago; but she was much different. Her skin was grey and peeling - underneath was bone, and he could see the bubbles softly moving through her arms as she flowed from side to side. She had little left of her jaw - a large chunk had been blown off, as though with a weapon he'd never seen the likes of before. What was left of her glowing hair was scraggly and matted, in small patches along her scalp. What wasn't covered was completely open, and a hollow hole that sent a wave of fear through Ryan was left in its place.

_We trusted you. You promised us that you would do your part. You welcomed us, and you left us to rot while you planned your childish schemes. And now look where it has gotten you - you've been bested by someone so unfit to rule a country, he would rather leave it to his fellow councilmen. You've lost the power you once held, and ran, like a coward, instead of defeating your successor. You are_ pathetic _._

Her voice, though filled with fury, was calm as she spoke. As they spoke.  _I know that I've made a mistake, but they were going to have me executed. I had to run_. He tried to inhale again, but found no air, and no water. His face began to turn blue.

_And now you are going to be executed, because the Usurper has called upon the rest of the Kingdoms to begin searches for you, all over your puny, mortal world. Every stone overturned, just to find the vermin that plagues it. What are you to do now, James? Hide? They will find you, shriveled and frail, decaying and come to join us_.

Ryan didn't want to die. He tried to inhale one last time, but found it was impossible. With the last of his strength, he pushed the form away and screamed, thrashing his limbs in slow motion through the unknown, dark liquid, at anyone and anything. If he was found, he didn't care. Anything was better than his fate leaving him at the Old Gods' doorstep. The torture he would endure... he could see it, every time he closed his eyes. He could feel every inch of him being slowly and painfully pulled apart until he was nothing more than a lost soul stuck in between the living and the dead. He could feel his very soul being poked and prodded and ripped apart, pieces being cast off to different worlds so no matter how he tried, he'd never truly be whole again. 

So he screamed. He screamed until his voice went hoarse, until his muscles burned and cramped, until he was certain it was the last of what he could get out. 

When Ryan opened his eyes, he came face to face with none other than Gavin, his bowstring taut, an arrow pointed directly between his forehead.

"So this is where you've hidden, yeah?" He asked, his arm shaking with a loss of strength. "What've you to say for yourself before I end your life permanently, you bloody prick?!"

"Save me." Ryan whispered, heaving as his eyes darted around the room - the rest of the Royal Guard, and the Council, surrounded him on all sides. He looked down, disoriented, and found himself in the bed he had sat upon to eat. His mutton was strewn about the furs and the floor. "Please. I don't want to die."


	5. Chapter 5

"Please. I don't want to die."

Gavin's face drew tight as he clenched his teeth, his fingers slipping ever so slightly from the bowstring. It was Jack who stopped him. "My King. He may be truly evil, but he is still a man. And a man deserves a fair trial, no matter the crime. You said so yourself, to your people, to us. Remember?" Jack's strength was no match for Gavin's, and he let his arm go slack in Jack's large grasp. 

Sighing, Gavin gripped the bowstring again and lowered his ornate bow, letting the tension off the string slowly. His face fell as he looked guiltily from Jack, to Geoff, and back again. "You're right, Jack. I'm sorry." He muttered, looking to the guard. "Shackle him, wrists and ankles. Gag him, and carry him if you have to. He's bloody well not gonna disappear again, not under my rule."

A wave of relief washed over Ryan, but the voice in the back of his head was seething. Beg for mercy, and plot against him, or you will never know sleep again. 

Ryan was quiet on the ride back to the City. He sat politely, sagging against Jack's back as he rode with him on his as they rode back. The general whispers and chatter surrounding him was no doubt about him, but he was too exhausted to make out what they were saying. He just wanted to go home. He wanted to have his trial and that be that. Deep down, Ryan hoped he could save his soul from the Old Ones. I've become Geoff, he thought as he felt Jack tug on the chains to keep him close, almost sensing that Ryan was about to get rest. And for once, They left him alone to sleep. Ryan was thankful, even if it was to be the last peaceful sleep he'd ever get.

When he awoke again, he was chained to a bed in a cell, not unlike the room he had just been in. The water dripping through cracks in the cobblestone alerted him to where he was; and he was not underground in the slightest. After Ryan became King again, he installed several hanging jail cells in the highest part of Geoff's monolith, underneath the water trap that had existed before he did. As he peered out past the iron bars, he confirmed his fears. Even having lived in this monolith for some time, the sheer height of it was nothing short of terrifying. Even in the darkness of this cell, he could not see the lit stone floor of Geoff's home. 

Moments later, the iron door behind him opened, and he stood still against the bars, his eyes wide with fear. Whatever madness Ryan had, it seemed to have left for the time being, and in its place left a scared and forgiving Ryan. The Ryan that Jack once knew. "Please, I--I can explain what has happened, I promise you." he called out as the person dropped some steak and milk at his feet. It floated, as it always did, in the center of the floor, and in the glimpse of the figure turning, he saw the red beard of Jack Pattillo. "Jack, Please. You know that this wasn't me - not.. not _truly_  me. S--Something happened, something took over me, a force that I cannot properly explain. It--It was evil, it said that it had plagued Geoff--"

The figure - Jack - stopped in the doorway, turning to face Ryan with a sigh. "You'll have your day in court soon. You can explain this to them, once they give you a chance." He began to leave.

"Jack, wait! Please. We have been like brothers since I arrived here. You know that--that this is true. You've seen Geoff, you saw what happened when I--with that task--" The tremble in Ryan's voice was terror, and still, he didn't move.

Jack stopped again, and turned. He always had a heart three sizes to large. "You have two minutes, Ryan. I'll see if I can sway Gavin's opinion, but as far as it's concerned, you're going to die before the week is out."

Two minutes. Ryan never spoke so fast in his life, detailing his first encounter with the otherworldly being, with whatever the horror of it was. He detailed his descent into madness, how he did things and felt things that weren't him. How he hadn't remembered much of the past few weeks leading up to his event. To Edgar. "Ed--Edgar is just a cow! He--He's just a cow. A--A stupid cow. He's... That--That _thing_  is not Edgar. I don't know how it came about. I don't remember, Jack. Please. All I remember is running, is--is the forest, hiding. I was visited again, before you found me. They told me if I didn't take back the throne they--they'd--"

Ryan couldn't get the words out. Jack checked something in his pocket and sighed, nodding. He didn't say another word as he left, leaving Ryan to his devices.

 

* * *

 

The trial went without a hitch, apart from Ryan's desperate attempt to appease Gavin and the rest of the Court. He plead his case before anyone who would listen, leaving no detail out. He wanted to be honest. He wanted to make reparations for what he had done. Gavin sat in his throne, almost bored listening to Ryan's "sob story", and waved him away, to shut up. "I've heard enough. Your stories reek of lies. Anyone could come up with such a tale in the time they've been running. I've no doubt it's what you've done. My decision is final. You are to be cast off the top of Geoff's home, and buried in a crypt so far underground the only person you'd be able to harm is yourself."

Ryan gasped. "Please, please, Gavi--my King, please, don't do this. I don't want to die."

"Neither did the hundreds of innocent people you slaughtered, Haywood." Gavin's words were cold, and they hurt more than the Old Ones ever could have, because he was right.

"My King?" A quiet, shaky voice silenced the entire Court. "May I--May I say something? Not as... not as a friend of Ryan's, but... as a friend of yours, in private?"

Gavin's eyes shifted from Ryan's fearful gaze, to Geoff's dull, tired face. Something about this sight seemed so familiar, but Gavin couldn't put a pin on it. "Of course, Geoffrey. You've been like a father to me. We'll meet in council chambers, with one witness... Jack?" Jack nodded, and the three of them left.

When they returned, Gavin stood before the Court. "In... light of recent information given to me by my council member, and longtime friend, Geoffrey, I retract my previous statement. There... there is truth to Ryan's words." With a heavy sigh, Gavin nodded curtly and looked to Ryan. "You will be jailed for several months, and afterward be in the care of Jack Pattillo, to be watched over in case another... episode of this madness occurs again." He left without another word, and it didn't take a skilled brew master to know that whatever Geoff had told him left him haunted.

With freedom from death, Ryan couldn't have been more relieved. _You better not abandon us, James. Do as you're told, and you will have unimaginable power._

 

 

* * *

 

 

For a while, Ryan played nice. He did as told, he never left Jack's care, and for what it was worth, he allowed himself to be rehabilitated. He did what he could to gain the trust of the people he once towered over, and eventually, of Gavin himself. Day after day the voice came to him, sometimes feminine, other times masculine. Sometimes it was more than one; sometimes it would be soft, caring, and other times it would be so loud that Ryan was reduced to a screaming mess. And he had been strong, for a while. He endured the endless nightmares, the sleepless nights filled with potions and pain to keep himself awake. Slowly, pieces of him started to crack; he'd find himself snapping at servants and spending night after night on monster patrol, slicing through waves of creatures.

And eventually, he shattered. He let them creep back into him, with promises of riches and power once more, and sighed as his body filled with a warmth he'd missed. He could feel shadows of her touch along his body, and more often than not woke to the feeling of her caressing him. Soft breezes were filled with her scent - in crowds, he swore he could see her standing there, the silk sheet flowing like water along her body. 

Once he gained Gavin's trust, it had been so, so easy for him to slowly poison Gavin's thoughts with pure evil, using magicks never seen by Achievement City or its neighboring kingdoms. And the Unbeliever had fallen for it. It had started with little things - helping Gavin decide what to have for dinner, but the closer he got, the more evil it became. He isolated Gavin from his council, from his peers, from everyone but him. He became Gavin's best friend, and when needed, his lover. It didn't take long for the others to realize what was happening, but by then, Ryan had corrupted Gavin to his very core. There was little, if any of the real Gavin left - in a fit of what seemed like lucidity, Gavin cried for help, but it was too late. 

When Gavin reinstated him as King for the third time, he had promised to never be dethroned again; And for years now, he had not. So much time had passed and he had become soft - no longer did he kill animals for fun, no longer did he murder the others of the Royal Court; he resorted to petty tactics, like stealing dragons and destroying clean energy. The Solar Queen had tried their best to take him down, but it had only resulted in more desperate measures.

For a while, Ryan believed he had been safe. He believed that he was so powerful that no one could cut him down from his golden throne, and no other would be able to even if they tried. So he had another Royal Court meeting, and let the petty fools who called themselves past Kings try. He had figured to give them a _chance_ , even if it was slim to none. No one had expected the Forgotten One's rise. No one.

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

"And if everyone would like to enter the Boo Box, your last task will await you." Surely no one could defeat the mighty Ghast. What they lacked in speed they made up for in power, and Ryan was no stranger to their destructive tendencies. Even he prayed for his subjects; even the Newcomer, Jeremy. They had not given him a name yet, but he had long since replaced the Ghost King after one particularly powerful cleansing ritual. He had been shining, and so many seemed so close to winning. Little did they know...

"You have one task, and only a handful of rules. Defeat a ghast, and bring me a tear. You must complete this by running to the throne, and only when you stand upon its golden foundation will you truly win." Ryan's voice boomed throughout this darkened room, and within an instant, the ceiling opened up to glass panes... and a square of dispensers - undoubtedly with ghast spawners in them - around the upper ring of the room.

Ryan had been so certain no one would be able to do such a thing. They'd tear each other's throats out before anyone arrived at the base of the throne. He had made it so. As the Mad King went forward to pull on the lever, the voices began again.

 

_You'll never win. Someone_ will _die, and it will be you, James.  
__You will never stay in power, it is not your destiny  
__You are not worthy of the throne  
__You have spilled blood upon its surface  
__You have tainted it! It must be cleansed!_

 

Ryan's head twitched to the side and he exhaled, muttering quiet, obscene remarks as he flipped the lever several times, unleashing tens of ghasts all at once. There was no way in the Nether that they could ever survive this many - five times more than in the nether alone, all at once, here, in this tall, yet small room? Even the bedrock couldn't save them from the force of the explosions.

Yet as he watched from his glass ceiling, he could not help but catch a glimpse of Jack Pattillo - the Unworthy, Uncrowned, Forgotten One - and his fingers snatching a ghast tear as it fell from the sky. No one else had noticed it had happened; they were far too busy fending off their own nether-worldly attackers. Ryan watched as he exited the room, now open with the proper item, and ran off to the the teleportation pedestal and back to the throne room.

 

_Kill him, now! No one has noticed_   
_He as not said a thing_   
_Now is your chance_   
_He will never make it--_   
_Shut your mouth! They will know!_   
_The Blasphemer shall fall!_

 

But before Ryan could even make the decision to shove his diamond-encrusted sword through Jack's unarmored back, he spoke. "I'm running to the throne with the ghast tear, Ryan! I'm almost there!" As the Mad King watched, he could see Geoff trailing behind, just out of breath. He could be the one to murder Jack... and then he could get rid of the witn--"I'm on the throne, your majesty! I am on the throne with the ghast tear!"

It was utter chaos as Ryan arrived to the Royal Court - Geoff landed the finishing blow to Jack's life, and the tear dropped from his fingertips, clattering against the gold like glass. Michael proceeded to shove his sword through Gavin's chin, straight into his brain, leaving Gavin lifeless, his tongue lulling out of his mouth and his eyes rolling back in his head. Michael let out a cackle, all too familiar to Ryan. Lindsay, the Empress, fell to a Ghast just as Jeremy rounded the corner into the Court. He didn't immediately see Ryan, but ran towards Michael and pulled him off of Gavin's body, trying to stop the fighting and the chaos. It was pandemonium... maybe no one had heard Jack's exclamation.

But he was wrong. He had to admit defeat... again.

_Unworthy, useless blasphe--the Uncrowned has--Kill them, kill them all now!_

The voices were giving him a headache worse than he had ever had before; it made his knees give out and his nose bleed as he fell to the dirt just beyond the Royal Court walls, but nonetheless, he recovered and hopped the stone wall. He made his way to the remaining few who lived, fully intending to behead each and every one. He knew they couldn't die forever, but he could certainly trap them in the stone crypt under the throne...

He had gone for Jack first, and it was no easy task. The battle was hard, and he was still reeling from the voices as they overcame him once more.

 

_He will tell everyone what you've--_  
_He is dead! Rejoice! The blasphem--_  
_Kill, kill, kill! Yes, James! Kill!_

 

The sounds of ghostly ecstasy sent a shiver down Ryan's spine, and his headache only worsened when Jack gained the upper hand and drove his iron sword through his skull.

The pain was unbearable - even the horrors of the Old Ones couldn't amount to agony. 

And then it was over. 

His crooked, ornate crown fell to the ground with a dull, tinkling thud, kicked away as Jack let go of his sword and looked Ryan right in his eyes. "I'm sorry, James." His muttered, and stepped back as the others returned from their graves and stood before the Mad King's body, now lifeless and bleeding.

It wouldn't be long before he returned.

 

* * *

 

_You're one of us now, James_  
_You'll never amount to anything, just a whisper_  
_You were never meant to rule--_  
_Traitor, Blasphemer, Tyrant! Your mother should have thrown you in the river, she knew what would become of you!_  
_Your father was a tyrant! A bastard! Just like you!  
_ _Your wet nurse should have done what was right! Your mother died for nothing! Nothing!  
_ _You were nothing! You are nothing!_

 

"Shut up! Shut up, all of you! You are not real! Shut up!" The Mad King's screams were no more than hoarse whispers of a dying man, and he could taste the iron in the back of his throat as he continued to scream. But the voices didn't stop. They never stopped.

 

_You had your chance, one chance was all it too--_  
_He had many chances! He is worthless! Beaten by the Never Crowned!_  
_What a king he is! No longer is he worthy of the titl--_

 

_Ryan._

A voice rang out so clear between the voices that they quieted down, silenced by something other worldly. Yet as he tried to come forth, tried to come back from the grasp of the Old Ones, it seemed as though the whispers would never end.

_Ryan, I am here. You are safe._

As The Mad King began to break once more, the sound of the New King's voice broke through all of the voices and the screaming, and he quieted down, his fingernails broken and bloodied - clumps of hair and flesh stuck in them as he scratched his scalp hard enough to do damage. No doubt the wounds would get infected again - though they tried, Ryan had become so soiled in his own rags that his feet and hand were blackened by the dirt and mud, and no doubt piss and shit. He had fallen so far after being captured and imprisoned once more.

He opened his eyes to the brightest light he had ever seen and shielded them, trembling hands held up to protect himself from whatever punishment that was to be bestowed upon him. "Give--Give me death." He muttered, his voice quiet and scared. "Give me d-death, please, I--I cannot take it any longer, y-your majesty, I--" He broke down into sobs and shielded his mangled head with his forearms, and it was only then that Jack saw he had not been eating his food.

His rags hung loose, looser than they ever had - his beard and was overgrown and matted, and no one had come down to clip his nails. Matted hair clung to his head as he refused to see anyone but Jack, fearing that he would do the worst and only receive a worse punishment. He didn't trust the food and water - someone could have poisoned it, someone could have laced it with things that would leave him nothing more than a husk, and he just could not have that. "You know that I will not do that, James. No man, no matter how terrible his deeds, deserves and unjust death. It wouldn't be fair to you. You cannot battle like this... I doubt that you could even hold up a shield in this state. Why haven't you been eating?"

Ryan sniffled, still shielding his eyes as he finally emerged from the corner he had been hiding in. It was worse than Jack had ever imagined. How long had Ryan gone without a proper meal? His rags hung so loose they threatened to fall off, and he seemed to rip pieces away to tend to his own wounds and needs. Barely anything hung off of his body as Jack saw the sunken cheeks, the gaunt stomach, the way Ryan seemed to be pigeon-toed as he shuffled to the bars. Yet despite all of this, despite the malnourishment, the mental breakdowns, the self-infliction of wounds, Ryan's grip on Jack's wrist through the bars of his jail cell was tighter than even the strongest in his new court. "I--I can fight, I will fight... I--I deserve it, y-your majesty, I deserve death.. The--The things I have done... The--The disgrace I have caused.. disgrace... I--I am... nothing..." He gritted through barred teeth, sinking into one of his episodes again. Why was that torch light so bright? Had he not seen the sun for that long? Had no one come down in that much time? How long had it been? 

Jack sighed as Ryan retreated from the iron bars, shuffling softly back to his only clean corner - if it could even be called clean, but his furs were covering most of it. He mumbled to himself, repeating whatever it was that the Old Ones had been saying to him.


	7. Chapter 7

Some would have said that this punishment was worse than death - Gavino, the Unbeliever, had brought up killing Ryan by chucking him into the void to die forever, as it would be less painful than being locked away in complete darkness, with nothing but the occasional meal and his own thoughts. "It's Hell, your Grace. There is something wrong with Ryan's head... I have witnessed him speaking to no one, calling himself things that no one has ever called him... Do you know what becomes of the people who do such things?" He asked, wondering if Jack had or not.

 

"Let him rot! He put  _us_  through _Hell_ , Gavin!" Michael piped up, his arms crossed as he leaned up against the stone wall of the Reading Room, where they held their meetings as it was the only place close to Downtown that was still considered secret. Not many knew the way through the Cactus garden to get to it. "He killed us over and over and over again, he slaughtered nearly every goddamn cow in the entire kingdom, _and_  continually put animals in holes and cages! He put us in those cages! And he laughed about it! He laughed every goddamn time, like we were nothing more than cattle! I'm surprised he didn't fucking eat us!"

"He's got a point, Gav." Geoff muttered from where he was currently reading some sort of enchanted book, at Jack's request. A regeneration spell or potion or something, to deal with the wounds he received from his and Ryan's battle. He was looking better now, as if a great weight had been lifted off of his shoulders for the final time. He was no longer a pale shade of grey, and there was life returning to his eyes.

"I.. I just got here a few months ago, but... I have to agree with Michael, Gavin. Ryan tortured us. I hate to use that word, but it's true. He tortured us, the villagers, the animals, anything with a heart - and even those things at night without a heart."

" _Shut the hell up, Jeremy!_  You practice blood magic for Christ's sake! We all saw the damn cage you put shit in!" Gavin shot back, swinging his golden boots down from atop the middle table, where all of their seats were, besides the throne. A smaller one was erected for Jack after they realized what good it would do.

"Yeah?! Well at least I never poked and prodded at Ryan until he exploded and killed us!" Jeremy stood up from the table with a splash potion in hand, one with oozing green slime that was undoubtedly one of his poison potions. Similarly, Gavin began to draw his bow, fully intending to bash Jeremy over the head with it until he shut the goddamn hell up.

" _Both of you, shut the fuck up!_ " Jack's voice bounced off the stone walls and wooden bookshelves like a Lion's roar. Both lads quieted down immediately., and Gavin lowered his bow, sitting back down immediately. "I don't care what he did. Ryan deserves to be caged. An eye for an eye, tit for tat. Besides, I wasn't going to just leave him there to wither and die! You know that he was one of my most trusted and best friends. We were practically brothers! He will be treated well - food, drink, a place to use the bathroom. A bed, all of the amenities a man cannot go without, minus sex. He will live in solitude and that is the _end_  of it!"

With the way Jack's face reddened with frustration from being unable to please all of his friends, Gavin and Jeremy had no more objections. They understood what a delicate situation this was. "Fine." They both uttered in unison, both arms crossed now as Jeremy slammed back down in his seat and huffed. Gavin resumed putting his golden boots back up on the table and leaned back far enough to nap, and the meeting was adjourned. Only Geoff remained, with Jack, to go over the book and translate its contents, and Gavin, who was lightly snoring.

Jack went over as much as he could with Geoff before the text became to confusing for him to read; after he left, he took a walk about Achievement City and went over everything they had talked about. He knew that tensions between the group were rising again, and he didn't know if he'd be able to stop it before it spilled over and caused an outburst. 

The only way, he could see, to rectify the situation was to visit Ryan personally and... and nothing. Jack hadn't gotten that far yet as he turned to start the walk to the Royal Court.

 

* * *

 

 

"The disgrace? What do you mean?" Jack knew damn well what Ryan meant, but he wanted to hear it for himself - and for the people in his ear who were intently listening, through magical ear devices. Some sort of enchanted helmet. Ryan stood up again and began to pace close to the bars, holding his head as he grimaced and grasped a fistful of hair, pulling hard. It pained Jack to see him like this. "C'mon, Ryan. Talk to me. I've been your best friend for so long. You know that you can confide in me. I'm not.. Well, I'm not you - or what you used to be. I'm not going to use it against you."

"I..." Ryan came close and jerked his head against the jail bars hard enough to cause blood and gripped the iron, slowly rusting, tighter. "I have caused a... a great deal of pain. So much.. s-so much pain... Death... Killing me once was--it was not enough. End my life. Have Jeremy take my--my--my soul. I--I deserve to go to the Nether for good. To meet the Devil, to--to suffer eternally in the lava pits." He muttered weakly. A tear fell from his good eye, though the one that had been stabbed never healed properly. Not with the type of enchantment the Ritual Sword had. Whatever enchantment was on it was powerful enough to kill those whom wished upon it. Jack had only meant to do real damage, but not like this. Ryan would never be able to see properly  out of that eye ever again. "I have killed, tor--tortured, pillaged, ra--raised hell for fun, for enjoyment.

"I--I have run Achievement City into the ground. All the bloodshed, the wars, the merciless beheadings, the--the games I played.. I--I de--de--destroyed lives, J--Jack, I--" Ryan voice began to crack and he tried so desperately to hold back tears. It didn't work.

"Are you sorry for the things you have done?" Such a simple question, but it was all Jack could say because he was so taken aback. Never had he seen such remorse and sorrow in a man's face. Whatever had been plaguing Ryan seemed to finally break him for good, and he knew it didn't bode well. Ryan was either a few seconds from closing up entirely or having a meltdown that he wouldn't come back from.

Out of precaution, Jack removed his belt and tossed it, and his sword, off to the side, far away from the jail cell, and Ryan's reach.

There was a long moment of silence before Ryan spoke again, and his voice was weaker than it ever had been. "Yes. I... I will never be able to make amends for what I have done, but yes... I am so, so sorry Jack. Please. Just end my life. Make me suffer, but... make it quick. I--I cannot do this any longer. I--I will even do it myself. You will not have to shed--shed blood, my liege."

For a moment, Ryan believed that Jack had left - while the torch light was still there, he easily could have thought that Jack left the light there as a kindness, and showed him the cruelty that he had to the other so, so many times. But when he opened them just enough to see, he could see the green of Jack's royal wear and his red beard and knew that he was thinking, or something. He probably thought Ryan was being facetious, but it was the opposite. Ryan just wanted the voices to _stop_. And if that meant ending his life, then so be it. He would gladly join the dead men who wandered and spoke to others, if it meant being rid of them inside of his own head.

"No." Jack's voice was stern, and Ryan's heart felt as Jack leaned back from where he had been leaning against the bars so Ryan could see him. "I cannot allow you to sink so low. You'll never enter the Realm of Kings if you act this way. Geoff has finally translated the book we need to help you... but only if you will accept it. We will bring you to health and... if the others in the Royal Court allow it, let you walk as a free man amongst your peers, with conditions."

Ryan nodded, eager to know such conditions.

"First... you will have someone on watch with you for an unknown amount of time, so I know this is not a trick. Second, you will not be allowed near anything sharp or harmful to you - it.. will take a lot, but I truly do not want to lose you. Even if you were an awful person for a while." Jack chuckled, but Ryan did not. Jack's laughter died off as the torch began to darken, and he sighed. "Third... please try to get healthy. We'll do everything we can. You know there isn't much in the way of medicine, just regeneration and food - but soon.. I know Geoff will have a breakthrough, and whenever Caleb returns from the far lands... we'll have modern medicine."

Ryan swallowed dryly, hanging head head as he put his hands through the bars and held himself up by them, spitting up some blood he coughed up from screaming and now talking. He was withering. He just wanted to _sleep_. "Yes. I--I agree." He muttered.

Something was wrong. Jack could see it. Something was wrong with Ryan and he barely heard Ryan's body fall limp on the concrete floor (shredded carpet long gone by now) as he called up for the waiting Jeremy, Michael, and Gavin with the makeshift stretcher to get him up to the newly built Ramsey Memorial Hospital. For a long time, Jack worried that he was going to die. What little stores of potions they had left were almost gone, and Geoff was not skilled at potion making. It took him, Gavin, Jeremy, _and_  Lindsay all to help Ryan get back to a state where he was coherent.

It was touch and go for what felt like ages - Ryan would come to consciousness, arch his back and yell for "them" to stop, and then he would leave again.

The Uncrowned King, Jack Pattillo, knew that it would be far, far longer for Ryan to become a proper member of their society once again, but unlike everyone else on the Royal Council, he truly believed that The Mad King could become respected, and not feared, once more. It would take time, but he knew.

No matter the odds, he'd do anything for his older brother.


End file.
